


mud bath

by DisposablePaperCup



Series: Intergalactic Antidepressants [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Possibly OOC, Time Travel, Timeline What Timeline, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Young Luke Skywalker, im indecisive about the title, this is literally the most tooth-rottingly sweet thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisposablePaperCup/pseuds/DisposablePaperCup
Summary: "Are you really my dad?” The kid says, andwowif there was ever a conversation topic Anakin would rather have avoidedthiswould be it.He opens his mouth before the kid immediately barrels on, “‘Cause my Aunt and Uncle said he died a while ago but you’renotdead."(Or: Nonspecific means of time travel, tiny Luke, and a very,veryunprepared Anakin)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker
Series: Intergalactic Antidepressants [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179260
Comments: 8
Kudos: 160





	mud bath

Tatooine is a planet of sand, rocks, unsavory and highly suspicious characters, more rocks, Hutts, more sand, and even more sand. It’s miserable and hot and none of the memories Anakin has of it are particularly happy. Some are, yes, but it’s more of an overall happy-to-unhappy ratio that he’s going off.

Anakin spent the entirety of his ten-ish years on Tatooine working daily without respite and trying not to overheat and-or starve to death. He’d kill to never have to go back there again. It’s a place of misery and suffering and the only good things to ever come out of it, in his opinion, are his mother and his fateful meeting with the Jedi that secured his freedom.

The point is, Tatooine mercilessly stomps out all childish dreams and any specks of happiness without pause.

This is why the curious, lively, _beaming_ blue eyes staring at him like he holds the answers to the universe are all that more befuddling.

“Are you really my dad?” The kid says, and _wow_ if there was ever a conversation topic Anakin would rather have avoided _this_ would be it.

He opens his mouth before the kid immediately barrels on, “‘Cause my Aunt and Uncle said he died a while ago but you’re _not_ dead."

A flurry of tiny hand gestures, “Did you ever fly a spaceship, though? Like, a _real_ one, not like the one I’m gonna fly. It’s not mine but I’m gonna fly it. I’m gonna take it through Beggars’ Canyon one day.” He beams.

“That’s uh. That’s great.” Anakin says, though it comes out more like a question.

The kid’s smile impossibly widens, “Isn’t it? Uncle Owen doesn’t want me flying but I think it’ll be okay if I have Biggs with me. He’s the _best_ and his mom lets him use a blaster rifle whenever we go out. It’s the _safest_.”

Anakin has literally no idea who those people are. Or, he knows who one-out-of-three of those people is.

“Um.” He says, and glances nervously to where the boy’s hands are starting to slip off the armrest as he leans forward.

“And- and- did you ever see a womp rat?” The kid says, wide-eyed, and leans further forward, “They’re like, really big. Biggs knows how to shoot ‘em, though. I’m gonna do it one day, too. Do you know how to shoot?”

“Luke,” A voice scolds, and they both jerk to the door. It’s only then that Anakin realizes the muffled conversation in the other room has stopped. His stomach does a funny little flip. Beru gives a brief, pained glance to Anakin from the doorway before nodding at the kid- _Luke_. Right. Can’t forget that, “Sit normally, please. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Luke - _Luke Skywalker_ because this kid is his _son_ \- isn’t stalled in his excitement in the slightest. He slips around the armrest and shimmies his way onto the couch next to Anakin, who tries to hide his slow recoil. Beru looks like she’s going to say something else before hesitating, stopping. Her exit is pronounced by a swish of fabric and the metallic slide of the door. 

“Anyway,” Luke drawls, so it’s more like _anyyywaaayyy_ , “You know how to shoot right? What else can you do?” He suddenly gasps, bouncing in place, “Can you do that magic hands thingie that mister Kenobi did when he dropped the filter on you?”

Anakin winces and raises his arms again at the reminder when he realizes they’re drooping. The basin under his forearms wobbles a bit as he adjusts. More slop from the filter drips off his sleeves with a wet smack.

“Er, yeah.” He says, and Luke’s expression goes distant with complete awe as he slumps back against the couch, staring into space.

“You could like,” He says, breathlessly, raising his hands to press against his head, “Lift _so much stuff_ with that.”

Anakin feels a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. _Among other things_ , he doesn’t say, “You could, yeah.” 

Luke's hands absently scratch at his head while he wonders aloud, “How heavy can you lift things?”

A considering pause, “I lifted an AT-ST once.”

The hands throw sand across the floor when Luke flings them back down onto the couch. Anakin makes a face. Luke looks utterly unconcerned.

“What’s _that_?” He asks, completely captivated by whatever answer Anakin may have.

He thinks for a second, “It’s a really big tank on legs.”

Luke’s face scrunches up adorably. And- Anakin pauses. _Adorably_. He stops and berates himself. Even if this kid is, in fact, _his_ kid, he’s nowhere near close to being Luke’s father. If anything that honor goes to Owen, as loathe Anakin is to concede the title to him. 

The point is, he has no right to call a child that is essentially a stranger to him _adorable_ , no matter how true the fact may be.

“Like a water tank?” Oh, right. They were talking.

Anakin shakes his head, then considers, “It’s like a double AC-unit on legs. But really big metal legs. And you can sit inside and move it.”

And _there we go_ , he thinks as Luke’s face lights up with understanding.

“But that’s _so big_ \- I can’t even lift a filter on my own unless Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru help me,” Anakin pointedly ignores the ache in his chest at yet another reminder of Beru, “I dropped mine today.”

Anakin nods, mouth twisting, “Yeah, I know,” He says, and brandishes his muddy sleeves. 

Luke looks at the mud, then back up at Anakin, and a choked, halting noise bubbles out of him. Anakin freezes, concerned, before he realizes Luke is _laughing_. At him. For, presumably, being muddy.

“ _Hey_ ,” Anakin protests, but he’s smiling. And isn't _that_ bizarre? He’s got a track record of only smiling around Padme. Or when he’s doing something self-admittedly ridiculous. But this is new.

...It’s _nice_.

“You-” Luke snorts, “You can lift big metal leg-boxes-” He wheezes, “-but you can’t pick up a filter when it’s dropped on your head?”

He scowls, but it morphs into a grin when Luke dissolves into giggles, “I’ll have you know that I didn’t _see_ the filter. I definitely could have caught it if I knew it was there.”

Luke breathes heavily as he gets himself under control, “Yeah, _sure_."

Anakin stares down at him while he wheezes a few more times and mutters, “Was _I_ always this sassy as a child?”

“So,” Luke says, a smile lighting up his entire face, “If you both have magic and you both have those,” He points at Anakin’s lightsaber, hooked onto his belt, “Can you use yours too?”

He blinks, “My lightsaber?” Luke pauses, linking the name to the object, then nods enthusiastically, “I mean, I _could_ , yes.”

“Can I see it?” Luke asks, eyes glued firmly on the weapon.

For a second that’s not as brief as Anakin would like to say it was, he actually considers giving it to him. Then his brain registers _weapon_ and _give_ and _child_ and he realizes exactly how bad that idea actually is.

“Um,” He says, “How about we wait until tomorrow, okay? It can be really dangerous if you don’t know how to use it.”

Luke deflates, but nods firmly. Anakin has no doubts that he’ll be tracked down within thirty minutes of waking up to make good on his promise.

That is, if the lot of them are still there in the morning. Since, of course, there’s the whole ‘force-activated time travel device something-or-other’ to worry about.

So Anakin just won't worry about it.

“Well, can you show me something else, then? With the magic?” Luke asks, blinking optimistically up at him.

Anakin thinks back to Beru and Owen’s first reaction to his appearance- their very volatile _, hostile_ reaction, and winces. 

“I don’t think so. I don’t want your, um, Aunt and Uncle to be upset.”

Luke frowns, “Why would they be upset? Is magic bad?”

“Well, no-” 

“Then why?” 

Anakin goes quiet. Luke keeps staring.

He knows what the ‘why’ is. Anakin got enough of a furious, defiant earful from Owen and enough tears from Beru, and enough _fear_ from both of them to understand the ‘why’. He just doesn’t want to tell a child about it- to tell _his_ child about it. 

It’s not the force that’s the bad thing. It’s him.

“Your sleeves are dry,” Luke says suddenly, pointing.

Anakin looks down and finds the majority of the mud has sloughed off into the basin on his lap, the rest that had seeped into the fabric is dried and dusty. He shakes his arms and sand billows up into a tiny cloud around his hands. Luke sneezes - adorably, of course.

“Gross,” Anakin comments as Luke wipes snot on his sleeve.

Luke lets out a burst of laughter when he sees Anakin's face and slides off the couch, reaching over to take the now-muddy basin. Anakin leans away, hands tucked onto his lap. Luke remains oblivious to his father’s inner conflict and puts the basin on the floor. And- wow. When did Anakin start thinking of himself as Luke’s dad? As Luke as his son?

Luke climbs back onto the couch and opens his mouth to speak, then _keeps_ opening it. Anakin blinks as Luke’s energy drains from his tiny three-feet-tall body in a huge yawn.

“Tired?” Anakin asks.

Luke rubs his eyes and shakes his head furiously, “Nope! Not-” He yawns again, “Tired.”

And Anakin, unsurprisingly, doesn't know what to do here. Luke starts drooping like a wilting plant and Anakin’s hand flits out instinctively and catches him by the shoulder.

He freezes. Luke obliviously leans into it.

Another yawn.

“Okay, um. Bedtime for you, I think.” He says.

Luke scowls, which just looks like a more dramatic frown. Or a pout.

“I’m not tired.” He says tiredly. It’s more like _‘m not t’rd_ , though.

“Okay, well. Um,” Anakin says, and has to use his other hand to steady Luke when his head lolls forward and throws off his balance, “I think you should at least, um. Try to sleep? Then you’ll… be all energized when you wake up tomorrow. Then we can show you lightsabers and, er, magic, alright?”

Luke snores. And, oh, he’s actually asleep. 

“There is a six-year-old sleeping on me.” He muses. Though the sentiment is more _there is a child comfortable enough to be unconscious around me despite the fact I am an infamously feared mass-murderer in this future_.

“M’ no’ sleepin’,” Luke says, defiantly yanking his head up, “An’ I’m _nine_.”

“Nine. Right. Well, nine-year-olds need even more sleep than six-year-olds, did you know that?”

“Hm… no.” He’s starting to completely go limp against Anakin’s side.

“It’s true. Six-year-olds sleep for six hours but nine-year-olds sleep for nine hours.” Anakin lies. He really hopes this doesn’t have negative consequences later on. Lying to a child, that is.

“But- no,” Luke protests, forcing his eyes open, “B’t you’re like, _fifty_. You're not as'eep.” Anakin tries not to feel discouraged by an exhausted child overestimating his age by such an insulting margin.

Anakin settles an arm around Luke’s shoulders, somewhat startled by how natural it is, “Well, yeah, but adults are… special. When you get old enough you can sleepwalk and do your work while sleeping.”

“Wow.” Luke says softly, face almost pressed into Anakin’s side.

There’s a second or two of pause before Anakin looks down, “Luke?” He gently shakes him, “Hey, kiddo?”

And now there’s a nine-year-old using him as a pillow. Anakin sighs, suddenly feeling equally as exhausted as Luke was before he passed out. He shimmies a bit, moving slowly and trying not to jostle the tiny child against his side, and leans his head back so his neck is resting against the back of the couch. It’s not cushioned, so it’s not the most comfortable, but Anakin could probably care less.

His breath evens out and he’s asleep in less than a minute.

\---

Obi-Wan is exhausted. First, there was the whole ‘we’re in the future’ thing, which was initially misinterpreted as ‘we’re in the past’, which led to them meeting Luke, which led to them learning who Luke really was, which led to… well, everything else.

He’s been hashing out details with Beru and Owen about what this future is like. And, pointedly, why they found it necessary to point a rifle at Anakin when they first walked up with their wandering nephew.

It’s… a lot. More than a lot, but he’s already dedicated too much energy to understanding everything that they’ve been told and he’d rather leave it at that.

Beru gives him a troubled quirk of the lips before thrusting a pile of thin blankets at him, lightly dusted with sand.

“Luke was in here with him a little while ago,” She says, eyes still red-rimmed. Obi-Wan doesn’t ask who ‘he’ is, “You can take the couch and I’ll get Luke to bed.”

They step into the hall with a kind of hushed atmosphere about them. Ahsoka is still with Owen, having a breakdown that Obi-Wan doesn’t have the energy to help her with. He still can’t help but feel guilty despite that.

They step into the living room area and Obi-Wan starts when Beru lets out a hushed gasp.

“What is-” He stops, turning to the couch to find Anakin passed out, a little mess of straw-colored blonde hair peeking out from under his arm.

Beru presses her hands over her mouth, which is creased in an obvious smile. Obi-Wan looks back to his padawan. Luke’s tiny hand is clenched in a fist in the front of Anakin’s shirt, whose head is rolled forward to rest his chin on Luke’s head. Each breath he takes ruffles Luke’s- his _son’s_ hair in a little flutter of golden brown strands.

Obi-Wan smiles and gently rests a hand on Beru’s shoulder, “Let’s let them sleep.” 

She lets him draw her away, moving to a different room. They’re both still smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Have some fluff :D
> 
> Please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed!


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